


Mostly Harmless

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Spies & Secret Agents, badass maria hill, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the world of mercenary operatives, they don’t say it’s bad luck to encounter Maria Hill, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mostly Harmless

**Author's Note:**

> Hm. So, this is my fic volley back to **geckoholic** for her prompt: _The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. (from The Usual Suspects)_ , MCU, hurt-comfort.
> 
> Uh. Yeah. One out of three is better than none?

In the world of mercenary operatives, they don’t say it’s bad luck to encounter Maria Hill, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

–

His name is Cameron Pyc and he carries grudges like he carries his scars.

This one (grudge, not scar) dates back to Madripoor, 2002, when a slip of a split-tail fucking jarhead kills his employer, upends his long-term retirement plan, and then doesn’t even have the decency to hand the fucking city over to S.H.I.E.L.D. No, instead of giving _carte blanche_ to the International Society of Do-Gooders, she hands the city back over to the Hoan Family, who are clever, fiscal, and considerably more ruthless.

The split-tail fucking jarhead goes by the name of Private First-Class Maria Hill.

–

It’s a year later when local cops, one military unit, and another comp of mercs somehow all manage to converge on what’s supposed to be a double-cross intel switch. Cam’s buddy ‘The Llama’ takes a shot to the shoulder, four others are bleeding from the ears after the concussion grenade gets them before they have their earplugs in.

In the mayhem and craziness, someone shoots the two men who were holding the packages and makes away with the drives – both the fake they were trying to pass off, and the real thing they were offering. Cam watches the feeds afterwards and glimpses a woman walking through gunfire and smoke like a ghost, scooping up the parcels with one gloved hand, and shooting two of his men in the head with the gun in her other.

He runs the split second of captured profile because he wants to know who the fuck—

Maria Hill again. _Agent_ Maria Hill, of S.H.I.E.L.D.

–

Eighteen months after that, a simple escort duty in Khartoum results in a third of the guards dead and another third down. Headshots and heartshots take out his people from angles that the Llama swore they had covered, with technology in place that should have told them they had an intruder before two thirds of their men went down and the package being escorted walked out in the care of Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.

According to everything Cam and the Llama checked – and they checked  _everything_ – the shots should not have been physically possible by anyone except Clint Barton. And Barton is on a hunting mission up in Poland – and they have eyes-on to prove it.

So who the hell was shooting at them in Khartoum?

Cam pays a lot of money to get the intel he wants – a  _lot_ of money. And then pays even more to verify that this is real data and not something someone made up just to fuck with him.

Because there, in black and white on the mission file, comes that name again: Maria Hill, Level 2 Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

–

Over the years, the encounters rack up like notches in the bedpost.

Unfortunately for Cam, it’s not his bedpost.

There’s Laos and the artifact extraction that collapses like a newspaper hat in rain. Reviewing the security cameras later shows Maria Hill playing tourist in the museum that very afternoon.

There’s Caballococha and the Colombian Warlord who’s found lying in the town square one morning. The passenger manifest out of the airfield the night before has a ‘Marisa Montoya’ who wears the face of Maria Hill.

There’s San Diego and the curious incident of the S.H.I.E.L.D Operation in the night, during which Cam and his techs manage to briefly hack one of the S.H.I.E.L.D waves, and find a woman giving the orders in a cool crisp voice before the encryption folds and they lose the signal. When Cam gets the intel, he finds Maria Hill was the senior agent assigned to the mission in question.

After a while Cameron doesn’t bother looking for who else was in the vicinity; he just checks where Miss Hill was at the time that everything went shitwise.

–

“You’re staring again,” the Llama remarks from across the room.

“Can’t help it,” Cam tells him, studying the latest photos of Hill – walking one step behind the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, a demure and insignificant woman compared with the brute physical heft of Nick Fury. “She shouldn’t exist.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me.”

Cam sits back in his chair. “She’s an only child of only children – grandparents and parents are dead by the time she joins S.H.I.E.L.D. She’s got no extended family, no adopted family, no ties from either school or the military. No handholds outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fuck, she’s a frigging Millenial who doesn’t even have a Facebook acount! It makes no _sense_.”

“You _do_ know our world is full of lone wolves, right?”

“They’re not women.”

Llama snorts. “I got two words for you, Pyc. _Red Room._ ”

“That Russian program that supposedly produced the Black Widows?”

“That’s the bunny.”

Cam considers it, discards it. “Nah. The Black Widows are weapons, not mission planners. They don’t operate at this level – not in the field and at mission control level.”

“Well, her internal training history reads like a who’s who of operatives from S.H.I.E.L.D.” Llama puts his hands behind his head. “Even an idiot would have picked up a thing or two. And she’s not an idiot.”

“I’m starting to wonder if she’s even human,” Cam mutters, glaring at the girl in the senior high yearbook photo as she smiles in a way that looks polite – at least on the surface.

“You’re starting to obsess,” Llama tells him.

–

The problem, Cam thinks as he slips another cartridge into his handgun, is that he can’t find anyone else who sees it.

S.H.I.E.L.D is a problem. The fact that they’ve co-opted Romanoff is a problem. The fact that they’ve paired her up with Barton is a very big problem. The fact that they’ve set Coulson to be their handler is a very,  _very_ big problem.

But someone like Hill? A nobody. Under the radar. Unnoticed. Unimportant.

That’s what everyone says, and Cam would like to believe it.

–

The bucket of ice-cold water shocks him into wakefulness.

“Good morning, Mr. Pyc.”

He chokes for air, pulling at his restraints as his body convulses, before falling back into the metal chair bolted to the floor. Amidst the shock, it takes him a moment to register the voice, let alone what she’s said.

His brain scrabbles for a retort and only manages, “Agent Hill, I presume?”

“Correct.” The one word is cold as the icy water, sharp as the edges of the metal chair, and unyielding as the straps holding his wrists and ankles in place. “Unfortunately, there’s no time for introductions today. We’re on the clock.”

Cam squints into the light and can just make out a slim figure and a profile carved from ice, before the lamp brightens to blinding and he flinches back.

“So,” says Maria Hill, “How about we start with what you have planned in Budapest.”

–

In the world of mercenary operatives, they don’t say it’s bad luck to encounter Maria Hill, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

They whisper it.

Very quietly.


End file.
